"Sandra, you're fucking
killing
me right now!" he cries as I pick up the phone from the small desk.
I send him a rueful look and then smile wide when I see that it's my mother. "Hi, Mom!" I greet happily, turning my back to Shawn to be able to ignore his pouting look.
"Hi, sweetie! How are you today?" she asks, the virus from a few weeks ago completely gone as her sing-song voice is strong and clear again.
"I'm great. How is everything there?"
"Great but tiring at the same time. I honestly can't wait to get back home and rest for a little while."
"Will you be able to come back in time for the routine?" I ask, hope lacing my voice.
"
Honey
... I'm sorry. We can only come back two weeks after that since things were delayed."
My heart sinks into a pit immediately, and I have to drive back the stinging sadness that tries to creep up into my voice. "Oh, ok. It's fine."
"I'm really sorry, Sandra. I know how much this means to you."
"No, it's fine, really. Just forget about it and do whatever you need to do."
I hear her sigh, a sign that she can tell how much this troubles me despite what I just said but still can't do much about it. "Okay. I have to go now but we'll talk again later on tonight."
"Of course."
"Love you, sweetie."
"Love you too, Mom."
As soon as the call ends, I feel Shawn's burly arms encircle my waist as he holds me close from behind and rests his head on top of mine. I lean back into him, resting my arms over his and shut my eyes, cherishing his extreme warmth and sturdiness that gradually soaks into my body to become my own, managing to control the mounting gloom in my heart as it backs up into a dark corner.
"You okay?" he asks gently, squeezing me a little.
I hesitate. Am I okay? Am I really? "Yeah, I'm fine," I say way too quickly, which only does the opposite of assuring him as he turns me around to face him, and naturally I find it hard to look at him in the eye.
"Cassandra." He tenderly cups my chin to make me look up at him. When I do, the intensity of his compassion in his shining eyes snatches all the air out of my lungs, causing dizziness to whirl in my head. "Just because they won't be there for you physically doesn't mean that they aren't supporting you. You get that, right?"
The sudden transparent truth of what he just said momentarily stuns me as the words echo in my mind. He's right, he's so right. Of course, wanting them to watch me is one of my greatest wishes but I shouldn't act like they won't be there in spirit, letting me know that no matter where they are or what they will be doing, supporting me will be forever roaming their minds.
In the end, I nod my head, truly believing every word he spoke. He shows an encouraging smile before pressing his lips to my forehead, letting the kiss linger there for some moments before steadily sliding his mouth down to my own waiting one. A soft sigh leaves me when he fits his amazing mouth to mine, the tip of his tongue feeling my upper lip before he pulls away to give us a second-long break before kissing me again, this time trailing my bottom lip before gently biting it and breaking the kiss again to repeat the cycle. I can only sling my arms around his neck as I kiss him back, loving the way we're tender and taking our time. His hands slide down my back to rest at the base of my spine, tugging me just a little closer to eliminate any space between us.
Damn
! Never in ten lifetimes could I have imagined a kiss to be so fulfilling. The taste of him is just so addictive, making me yearn for more and more with every single faint brush of contact. And it doesn't evolve into us trying to rip off the other's clothes or touching each other in our most receptive areas. All we do is let each other know how much it means to just be treasured this way, the smallest gestures we're already granting and receiving all the intimacy we need.
After who knows how long, we stop, and I place my head on his chest, breathing deeply as every nerve in my body tries to discharge the zooming current in them.
"Thank you, Shawn," I whisper, gratitude welling up in my chest.
"Any time," he responds, stroking my hair back.
Gradually, we part, and since we no longer have the all-consuming urge to have sex I go back to practicing my dance again with him watching me with adoration the whole time. That simply brings me profound joy, seeing how his face lights up when I move and I just think how lucky I really am to have him here with me.
Soon, lunchtime comes before I know it so we head up to the kitchen and fix up a couple of ham, lettuce and tomato sandwiches and grab two cans of Pepsi then decide to eat on the patio. We sit side by side on the sofa and dig in right away, reveling in the grand expanse of the estate. A few meters away from us is a swimming pool, the azure water shimmering in the sunlight as a light breeze causes little ripples to break across its surface, and after it are acres of manicured jade fields right before a forest marks the borders of the land in the distance.
Despite its beauty and openness, I've always felt like it was some kind of lonely prison for me. I mean, all my friends go home to a mother busily cooking dinner or a father watching a baseball match or siblings dashing around, pissing them off to hell. I on the other hand come here to either Mrs. Grayson or no one at all—and it's often the latter—and I wonder a lot of the times what I have to do to make my home feel more like a home.
"No."
The abrupt statement jolts me out of my deep thoughts and I look at Shawn, who stares at me with such powerful disapproval that it pierces right into my bones, worry rising up in my chest.
"I won't let you slip back into sadness again," he points out, setting down his plate on a white wooden table and taking mine away to place it beside his before tugging me swiftly to his body, making me sit on his lap facing him.
"Start talking about something that makes you happy. Right now," he demands, determined to help me forget about what was concerning me.
"Really?" I say with a laugh, really impressed that he could tell I was unhappy and internally thanking him for being so considerate.
"Yes, really. I don't care if it'll bore me out of my mind or if it'll turn into a helluva novel or if it's
Vampire Diaries
even. Just start talking."
I grin wickedly at him, which at once causes him to frown as he realizes how he just signed his own death certificate.
"Well... there
is
something that makes me real happy," I start, stroking his cheek with the back of my fingers. "It's real tiring too. Like, to the extreme of limits."
With that confirmation he mopes even harder, fear glinting from his eyes.
"But don't worry, it's not the show but it won't turn into a novel either. I'll keep it as short as possible."
Immense relief breaks through his reluctance at what I have to say, making him say eagerly, "Okay. What is it?"
"Well, it's about a guy I like that I met under what you may call...
stormy
circumstances—" His slight smile begins to fade away. "—and is surely out of control most times. It's almost as if he dares me to try to put a leash on him—" He opens his mouth to protest but I gently place two fingers on his lips, gesturing for him to remain silent. "And that's not all; vexing, reckless, needy, arrogant. I could list ten thousand of his vices and still not scratch the surface." Hurt instantly shadows his face as I express what I think of him, but I'm not even done yet. "Yeah, he's
real
something, but I vow that no one could ever have captivated me the way he did."
The ache turns into mist when I confess that, his face silently pleading for me to continue, so then I do.
"He's actually quite sweet and thoughtful, witty, approachable, and spectacular company. When he looks at me with his dark eyes and laughs that lovely deep rumble of a laugh all I want to do is keep him smiling forever. I haven't known him for long—in fact, it feels like we first met only a little more than two months ago—but he acts as if he knows every single little thing about me, which he does of course. Whenever I'm at an all-time low, I know that he'll be there ready to make me feel better anyhow. I'm more than just grateful for him being in my life—I'm
blessed—
and I hope that he can tell."
When I'm done nothing happens except the wind wrapping around our still forms as we stare at each other. I can't tell what he's thinking or feeling; his expression betrays nothing. Anxiety causes my heart to drum away hysterically, my muscles to tense up to the point of straining themselves and my breaths to be limited.
I said too much, I know I did. We're just fuck buddies, I
know
we are. But when he asked me what makes me happy, he was the subject of every thought that exploded into mind and I let my gung-ho heart somehow convince me to tell him.
Am I stupid? Yes. Am I naïve? Definitely. Am I regretful?
Strangely... no. I don't give a shit about that.
Eons tick by as we gradually take on the characteristics of statues, my declaration hanging heavily in the air between us, waiting for one of us to make the first move. It turns out to be him when, without warning, he flashes the most honored smile I've ever witnessed, his eyes gleaming with so much fiery emotion that I nearly draw back from their almost tangible force, and his hands come up to cradle my face lovingly before he leans in to press his lips to mine.
Naturally, I sigh into his mouth, my eyes drifting shut as we worship the other's lips. How does he do that? Make each and every kiss seem like the first magical one? Cause my blood to zip in my veins like lightning? Make my heart skip several beats before remembering to do its job? Draw my body closer than ever to him in numerous incomprehensible ways? I'm compelled to say that it's a gift, but it seems more fitting to call it a superpower instead.
My spinning head registers his large hands gliding down from my face to my chest and over my breasts to my sides then hips, and when I feel his fingers fumble around in search of the zipper of my skirt I can't help but smile at his endeavors. Drawing away from him, I throw him an understanding gaze as I stand up in front of him, wanting to reward him with what he wants without him having to strive for it.
His eyes instantly widen with vibrant desire as the corner of his mouth curls up in an anticipating smile when my hands reach underneath my skirt to the hem of my leotards. Curling my fingers around it, I begin to slide them down my legs as slowly but smoothly as I can, never breaking eye contact with him. He watches me with pure glee as I bend down to my ankles to remove the bunched up material and flippantly toss them aside before I reach for my skirt's zipper on the side. Tugging it down, I push the skirt down just past my hips then let it fall and pool around my feet, leaving me in just my bodysuit. My heart rate picks up when I hear him let out a sigh and I'm nearly unable to untie the laces on the front as unstable current shakes up my entire form. After what seems like eternity I finally succeed, and leisurely, teasingly, let my fingers skim over the partially visible parts of my breasts just to get his body crying even more for me. Then I get hold of the straps and pull them down my arms, painstakingly peeling the suit off so that little by little more skin shows: part of my chest is exposed, then the tops of my boobs, then the whole of them, then my stomach, then my waist, and finally my groin.
An approving moan escapes him when the last of my clothing drops to join my skirt and does nothing but contentedly drink in the sight of my nudity. The first time he did that I didn't think he had a good reason to, but now I know that he really does see me as a marvel, something his mind just can't simply comprehend, and I feel so overwhelmingly sexy because of it.
A cool breeze gently caresses my bare body as I go back to sitting on his lap, making me shiver a little. He doesn't do anything immediately; he just resumes staring at me, completely hypnotized. With an encouraging smile, I take one of his hands and place it over my breast and the other I guide it behind me to my ass, firmly planting it on one cheek. A long groan finally escapes him as he steadily comes out of his reverie, his hands tenderly feeling my flesh. My hands then slide down to the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning and then zipping them open. Expertly, I slip in a hand into his boxers, causing resonating sighs from the both of us to sound with relief when my fingers find that wonderfully hardening cock of his. I softly pull it out into the open then begin to affectionately stroke it, watching the way it grows and fills up my hand with admiration.
I pet him until he's relatively rigid and precum also starts trickling out the tip, and then straighten up and raise my body, balancing my weight on my knees as I position myself so that his shaft is targeting the entrance of my pussy. With a shaky intake of breath, I lower myself down on him sluggishly, first only just making contact as the head nudges against the lips, and then sink lower so that it slips inside, and continue to go lower still. I watch him shut his eyes and rest his head back on the couch as I take him in inch by inch, the electric sensation of us joining clearly so much for him to absorb. I finally reach the end, releasing a long-held huff as I sit back down on his lap, sighing as I feel his giant dick thud away in my channel. He then opens his eyes and smiles just before kissing me again, his tongue bestowing pleasant, unhurried massages upon mine, and he holds my hips, keeping me still as my inner muscles squeeze his virile glory with enthusiasm.
